


How Can I Thank You?

by Moreena



Series: Shameless Smut Series [4]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Blow Jobs, Fights, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Stranger Sex, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 21:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11170320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moreena/pseuds/Moreena
Summary: Quatre is a classical musician, constantly lost in his own world.  On his way home one night, he gets accosted by a man who won't take no for an answer.  A kind brunette stranger saves him, and Quatre knows just words aren't enough to thank him.





	How Can I Thank You?

**Author's Note:**

> Smut ahoy!!! Tumblr ate the post I'd shared, so I can't link it. It was girls telling stories about the times random guys they didn't know saved them from awkward or potentially dangerous situations. One of my followers asked for more and here it is!!!! I hope this lives up to the hype!!!

He set his violin case down carefully as he dug in his messenger bag for his wallet. He handed over enough cash to cover the coffee, and waved away the change. The girl thanked him with a big smile and dumped the change into the tip jar, waiting for him to slide out of the way so she could take the next order. He shoved his wallet into his bag and picked his violin case off the floor. Lost in his own world, he set his things on a table near the pickup side of the bar, eyes half lidded as his fingers danced along the Formica tabletop, carefully plucking the imaginary strings of his violin. Humming quietly, he didn’t notice the two pairs of eyes watching him.

One roved over him like he was a tender cut of filet mignon, taking in every detail. Shapely legs encased in slightly fitted denim. A simple grey long-sleeved shirt with a bit of a V-neck looked soft enough to pet, like it was made of cashmere. His blonde hair was bright, bangs hanging in his face, the back of it curling slightly just above his shoulders. If you looked quickly, you’d think he was a girl. His body was slim and willowy, like the faeries in mythical stories. He was barely 5’6”, if lucky, and his face still held that bit of baby fat, which made his cheeks slightly round. He was thin, and one could argue that he was either rather androgynous, or effeminate, with soulful ocean blue eyes that seemed to go on forever. In all honesty, it looked like a strong breeze could bowl the boy over. 

The other pair of eyes watched carefully. Took note of the blonde’s distracted mental state, and the fact that he was maybe one hundred pounds soaking wet. No, the second pair of eyes was more concerned with the owner of the first set, that was treating the boy like a cut of meat he wanted to devour until there was nothing left on the bones.

“Cat?” The barista called out, setting a venti drink cup on the counter, before he turned around to go back to work.

The blonde opened his eyes and blinked, like he’d just stepped out of a reality and into the real world. He took a few steps over and grabbed the cup, bringing it back to his table. He sat with it, easily slipping back into that state where he was alone in the world while he waited for his drink to cool.

The next drink was called, and the oaf who was practically drooling grabbed it. He was burly, and thick, and Trowa wanted to classify him as a bear, since he obviously had the hots for the blonde waif. Trowa watched from under his fall of hair as the guy dropped into the chair across from the blonde, snapping the poor kid out of his reverie.

“H-hi?” The blonde stuttered out, looking up. 

Even sitting, the big guy towered over the blonde, in height and weight. The blonde didn’t look that concerned, at least in the beginning. He looked more annoyed at being interrupted, though if he actually was, he didn’t let it show. He acted polite, like he got this sort of thing all the time from random strangers looking to have a conversation.

“Blondie is in here a lot,” the barista said, handing Trowa his drink across the pick-up table. “Always has that distracted look. Beefy guy isn’t the first one to chat him up. But, he looks the most aggressive,” he continued, after watching where Trowa’s eyes were straying.

Like telling the brunette would assuage him of some sort of guilt, if anything happened to the blonde, and the kid getting paid minimum wage didn’t speak up or put a stop to it. Trowa nodded in mute thanks and took his drink, settling himself a table away from the blonde and his admirer, so he could easily listen in on their conversation. While he listened, he tried to rack his brain for where he’d seen the blonde before.

“You’re so pretty, are you a model? I know I’ve seen your face before,” the large guy was saying, leaning across the table with a hand curled around the blonde’s wrist.

If the situation wasn’t so serious, Trowa would have laughed at the way that petite wrist was swallowed up in an almost cartoon type manner. But, he was watching carefully for more forward signs of aggression. He wasn’t as tall, or as muscled as the guy, but at 6’, Trowa was tall enough. He was also trained extensively in a couple forms of martial arts, and he was confident in his agility and speed over the other guy’s lack of brains, and brawn. 

“N-no. I’m a musician,” Quatre responded, keeping his voice even, taking a minute sip from his drink with his free hand.

He wanted to pull his hand back and wipe it on his jeans. Could feel his skin crawling with dirt as he was touched against his will. It was one thing if it was a fan of his music, or a potential sponsor from a banquet or meeting. Being accosted by a stranger while he was just doing his normal routine unnerved him, and left him off balance. He knew how to take care of himself, but he didn’t know if his basic self-defense training would help in this situation. And, he didn’t want to be alone and in close quarters with such a large man where he could use the pepper spray he kept attached to his bag.

“A pretty little thing like you? You’re lying to me,” he responded, keeping that tight grip on Quatre’s wrist.

“I am. I play classical music. Piano and violin.” 

Here was where he left off that he was rehearsing for his last local show for a while. In just a couple weeks, he was embarking on a small tour around the United States, and part of Canada. If it went well, and he could hook the right sponsors, he’d be going international by this time next year. He winced, eyes darting up nervously towards the man’s face as the pressure on his wrist increased. All of those plans would change if he wound up with a dislocated wrist, which was where things were looking to go if this continued.

“So, are you single?” He pried, leaning in closer until the upper half of his body was across the table, working on further invading the blonde’s personal bubble.

His blue eyes shot open in fear, and his tongue seemed to lodge itself to the roof of his mouth. In the span of a few heartbeats, the guy clearly took blondie’s silence as a no, that he didn’t have one. The feral grin that curled across his face even had Trowa shuddering. He could tell that the blonde wanted to flee, and dump himself under boiling water until his skin melted off, and the dirty, suffocating touch was nothing but a ghost of a memory. 

Standing up, he’d had enough. He brought his drink with him and set it on the table, right next to the blonde. He stood, towering over both of them for the moment.

“Hey there Cat. It’s been a while. We need to talk lighting for the next show,” he rambled, dragging over a chair and setting it against the table, looking pointedly at the other man.

“You can fuck off. We’re a little busy here,” the bear replied, squeezing his grip even more.

Quatre let out an aborted cry of pain, biting down harshly on his lower lip. It hurt. It felt like he was going to twist or crush something, and Quatre needed his hands. Trowa focused a glare at the burly man. A look that could wither men if he put enough force behind it.

“Cat, is this guy bothering you?” Trowa asked gruffly.

The blonde didn’t know either of these guys, but he could honestly say that when it came down to it, he’d rather the brunette standing next to the table be the one bothering him. He at least looked normal, and like he could be brought down by pepper spray. He did enough cardio where he was fairly confident he could spray and run, and either find help or call the cops. He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, conscious of how dangerous the situation is turning, since he’s technically caught by the other man. He tries to withdraw his wrist, tugging it back towards his body. He’s met with resistance, and by that grip shutting down even tighter, so he stops and does his best to keep his whimper inside, so he doesn’t draw attention to him. Trowa notices the movement, and the slight tightening of the man’s fingers around that frail looking wrist. Now, he’s angry.

“How about we take this discussion outside? Shall we?” Trowa asks, voice glib, despite his internal anger at the situation.

“I think I’ll stay here, if that’s all the same to you,” he snarled back.

They weren’t going to get anywhere. Was a stalemate if Quatre had ever seen one. But, he did have an idea, and hoped it could at least get them outside. He didn’t want to cause a disturbance here. He came in here frequently, and didn’t need the news of an altercation getting around to the other shifts. No, he wanted to keep his slightly low profile.

“I was actually planning to leave. I have things to do in the morning,” Quatre spoke lamely, wondering if it would be enough to spur the man to get outside.

The sexual-laced grin had Quatre’s skin crawling, and he wanted to bathe in bleach and lye, until he’s clean. And do it a second time, just to ensure he didn’t miss any spots. As disgusting as it made Quatre feel, the guy seemed more than game for it, though he didn’t release Quatre’s hand. His violin was more important, so he left his drink on the table and let himself be manhandled to the door. Trowa grabbed both drinks and followed them, letting the man get outside and just past the shop windows. He set both drinks down on the curb, and struck.

Trowa worked as a bouncer at the end of the week, and worked in a gym the rest of the week, just to make ends meet. He was good at talking drunks down, and throwing them out on their asses when they’d broken rules or were causing trouble. Sober assholes were a different breed though. Unfortunately, he’d dealt with plenty of this guy’s type growing up. He’d been scrawny and quiet, alone most of the time. Oh, he’d been a prime target for bullies, until his sister had insisted he learn martial arts. The rest was history, as they say.

Quatre was being dragged long on the right side, closer to the street. Since the Neanderthal had one hand tight on the blonde, it left the entire left side of his body open and vulnerable. That was where Trowa struck. He came in low, hand curled into a fist. He swung upwards, aiming for the ribcage, and connected with a satisfying thump of flesh on body. He struck perfectly, and any of his instructors would have been pleased. He hit at least the lower two ribs, and with the full force of his body in motion, he both felt and heard the cracks as they both broke. In a dark way, it was perversely satisfying to have caused damage to an alpha predator that had a delectable piece of prey grasped in its mouth. About to crush down on its skull with a hard snap and end the life of said prey, but cut off before the joyous moment of success.

He let out a howl akin to a wounded animal and dropped the blonde’s wrist so he could cradle his own side, fingers splayed against his shirt, like he could magically heal it or stop the pain. Blondie was smart and hard darted backwards the moment his wrist was free, all graceful, even in a panicked state of being. However, now that he was injured, and his self-proclaimed prize had been forfeited, he was enraged. He whirled on the pair of them, and snarled as the blonde tucked himself behind Trowa, though he left space between them. He wasn’t stupid. He could see that Trowa was at an advantage, and would need room to work. He cowered, but didn’t crowd, and Trowa was grateful for that.

The guy charged at them, and Trowa spread his legs apart, centering himself with a deep lungful of air, feet and legs strong and stable, like tree trunks. The guy was taller, yes, but just a couple inches. But, he was running with his head down, in perfect height. He got closer, and Trowa sucked in one more breath and shoved his fist forward, the entire situation taking place in the span of seconds. He struck out with his fist, hitting the guy right in the forehead. His head rocked back as they connected, and he slipped, falling to the ground in an undignified heap, with a loud groan. It would have been comical if there had been a ‘boom’ sound when he fell. 

He wasn’t getting up, and Quatre looked around Trowa to see if he really wasn’t moving. Satisfied he wasn’t, Quatre let out a shaky breath, his heart fluttering in his chest too fast for him to even count, and he placed a hand over it in a vain attempt to calm it.

“You alright?” Trowa queried, turning his attention from the oaf on the ground to the petite blonde.

“Y-yes. I’m alright. Thanks to you,” he said, looking up and giving Trowa a smile that could have melted the ice in the Arctic Circle if it had feelings.

“I’m glad. Guys like him give the rest of us a bad name,” he scoffed, shaking his head at him.

“Is he..?”

“Just unconscious. He’ll come to eventually. But, we should both probably get out of here before he comes around, or someone calls the cops,” Trowa admitted, turning around to grab their drinks. 

The few people who’d been in the coffee shop hadn’t seen anything, so he didn’t even worry. If asked, he’d simply tell the truth. There was the barista to back him up, and this blonde angel too. 

“I… Thank you,” the blonde finally said after a long moment, like he’d been trying to find the right words to say, and that a mere ‘thanks’ wasn’t enough.

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, assholes like him give those of us who aren’t, a bad name. I can’t tolerate that kind of thing. Bigger people picking on those who are smaller than them.”

He scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, pleased that he hadn’t even broken a sweat with what he’d done. He felt eyes on him, and turned just slightly to see the blonde giving him a once over, now that the threat of danger was over. And, the blonde liked what he saw, if that quick lick of his lips was anything to go by. Trowa was now extremely grateful he’d only changed out of his workout shorts into jeans, and left his black tank top on. It was fitted, and showed off every plane and ridge of muscle on his arms, and left nothing to the imagination about his chest.

“I know I already owe you so much for what you’ve done already. But… Ah… Would you mind walking me home? Just as a precaution…?” Blondie asked, batting those doe-like eyes at Trowa, the brunette wondering if this was a ‘come up for coffee scenario’.

He caved. He had a weakness for pretty faces, and for guys who were smaller than him. It was sort of a kink, if he had to put a name to it. With a nod and a smirk on his lips, Trowa easily agreed. He’d met guys in strange places, doing strange things. While this situation was a first, he’d heard equally odd tales from friends, from clients at the gym. So no, this wasn’t too out of left field.

“My name is Trowa, by the way. You’re Cat, right?”

“Quatre, actually. But Cat is fine too,” he responded, taking his drink from Trowa, both of his hands full.

“I like it. A pretty name to match a pretty face,” Trowa said, walking with him, moving close so their sides brush against one another as they walk.

Trowa set his coffee in his right hand as they walked, and his left arm found a natural place on Quatre’s shoulders. It was like the blonde was made for him. Shorter than him, smaller. Absolute perfection as far as looks and body went. So far, from what he’d seen, his personality matched his body. He seemed kind, gentle. Things Trowa was not. They made small talk as they walked, heavy on flirting, on both their parts. Quatre having an innate ability to both engage and listen, and lead while walking beside the taller man.

“Hey Jim,” Quatre said with a nod to a man just outside an apartment building. A very nice apartment building, compared to Trowa’s own rather dilapidated one.

“Nice evening Quatre,” the man replied, nodding at him with a smile.

Quatre led the way inside and Trowa obediently followed, because Quatre hadn’t say anything about them parting ways, and if he was home… No, Trowa wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. They climbed the stairs to the second floor, and wandered down a short hallway to the last door. Quatre gave him a questioning smile and held out his coffee cup. Trowa returned that smile and took the cup, allowing Quatre to dig out his keys and unlock the door. Trowa followed him inside and Quatre set his bag and violin case down just inside the doorway, reaching for the cups as Trowa nudged the door closed with his foot. He handed over the drinks wordlessly, as the door caught and latched.

It might’ve been seconds from Quatre putting the cups down on the nearby kitchen table and Trowa simply staring at what he could see of the apartment in the dark to Quatre being back, pressed against him. He was on arched toes, leaning against Trowa’s bulkier frame, lips insistent on the brunette’s. It was erotic and filthy, and it preyed on his hindbrain. A stranger kissing him, pressed against him because he was so much shorter, that he needed to brace both hands on Trowa’s chest. Not fully aroused, but interested. Very interested, if he could go by the burgeoning hardness rutting against his hip.

“It’s cliché to say it, but I don’t usually do this…” Quatre admitted, their lips barely touching, sharing the same air as he spoke.

“What? Get saved by a hot stranger from a wannabe rapist, or take guys home you’ve just met and make a move on them?” Trowa jokingly asked.

“Both… I mean… It’s an extenuating circumstance. I guess you could say being saved by someone capable went to my head. Let me thank you,” Quatre whispered, body sinking to his knees, never breaking eye contact with those stunning green eyes.

He wouldn’t go all the way. But, this first meeting was serendipitous. Quatre would grab this opportunity by the horns and not let it go, because he could see something of the two of them down the road. Dating, oh yes. The only thing holding him back was the fact that he’d be going on tour soon. Would a budding relationship be able to handle that? They’d have to go out on an actual date. Talk more. Right now, Quatre was riding a high that he wanted to see out. There would be time for conversations later.

Now that he was on his knees, he was eye level with Trowa’s groin, and it was clear he was interested. Turning his face, he nuzzled his cheek against the hardness inside Trowa’s jeans, teasing the other man, showing that despite him being the ‘alpha male’ type, little Quatre was in charge of this activity, and he’d do things his way, and at his pace. Trowa wasn’t going to press, and he wasn’t above begging if it got those slim, dexterous fingers on his body. In this situation, he had to admit he was a slave to his libido and his cock. Trowa watched with half-lidded eyes as Quatre’s fingers popped the button on his jeans, and tugged the zipper down, the rasp of the teeth separating sounding as loud as a gunshot in the quiet apartment.

“Cat…” Trowa gasped out, grateful for the wall he was leaning against, his legs already starting to feel wobbly, just from the sight of the blonde on his knees in front of him.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise. I won’t bite, this time,” Quatre teased, both hands coming up to the front of Trowa’s jeans, pushing them open more, fingers reaching in to withdraw Trowa’s aching cock.

Trowa hissed at the dainty touch, Quatre treating him like he was something fragile. When Quatre finally got a good look at him, his eyes rolled up to meet Trowa’s, and he let out the most sinful moan Trowa had ever heard. It was the only warning he got, because the next thing he knew, there was a wet mouth licking up and down the shaft of his cock in long strokes. Getting him wet, Quatre’s tongue hot and bold on his skin, making goosebumps break out on the rest of his body.

Those slim fingers were curled around the base of his cock, holding it steady while he licked along the shaft. When he was satisfied that Trowa’s cock was wet enough, he dove in with gusto, lips curling over his teeth as he sucked the bulbous head of Trowa’s cock into his mouth. Trowa let out a loud groan, his head thumping back against the wall when he felt that mouth envelope him. One of his hands curled into a fist, nails biting into his palm to help ground him. His other hand moved up shakily, fingers trembling as he rested them in that mop of blonde hair. It was softer than it looked. Baby fine and flowing through his fingers like water.

When the fingers found purchase in his hair, Quatre let out an appreciative hum, and slid his mouth down more, taking in more of Trowa’s hard cock. It was a chore that Quatre didn’t mind performing in the least. With his mouth half-way down Trowa’s length, he felt a familiar ache in his jaw, from having it stretched open in such a manner. It was a pain he’d revel in when this was done with. There was nothing better than bringing a man to his knees with only his mouth and tongue. Using skills he’d slowly worked on and built upon, until he was as much a master of them as he was his violin, or the piano. Trowa cried out again, and he snapped himself from his thoughts, back to the task at hand.

He pulled his head back, tongue flicking across the slit at the tip, giving a teasing touch before he bobbed his head back down, taking half of him back in again. He kept up the pattern, slowly working Trowa towards a crescendo. With his mouth, he played Trowa like he was just another finely tuned instrument. With his fingers wrapped tightly around the base of Trowa’s cock, it was him who was controlling when the other man was going to come. 

Quatre didn’t know how long he knelt there, thighs and knees aching from being in a kneeling position on a hard wood floor, his jaw aching, like his mouth would never close again. He was in his element here, just as much when he wore a tuxedo and created music to move crowds of people. It was too close to perfect for words, and Quatre loved it. Loved the way Trowa’s hand clenched and curled in his hair, releasing when he thought he was pulling too hard, or when the sensations eased up. When Quatre decided it was time, he locked eyes once again with the man above him. He loosened his grip on the base of Trowa’s cock, and that was when the begging began. Sure, Trowa had been making noises the entire time Quatre had been blowing him, and uttering his name like a personal mantra, but there were actual words this time.

“Please Cat… Fuck fuck please. You’ve teased me for too long,” Trowa pleaded, trying to convey the aching need from deep into his balls through the eye contact he had with the blonde minx.

Trowa was slowly revising his opinion of Quatre. He looked innocent and sweet, and even acted sweet on the surface. But, below all that was a devious little tease, who obviously enjoyed giving sexual pleasure. He hated to think it, but the ‘lady in the streets, freak in the sheets’ saying was all that he could think of. And, it was so true. Quatre staring up at him, all blue eyes full of innocence and sin, plush pink lips wrapped around his cock, swollen slightly. Fingers holding the base of his shaft, on his knees, worshipping Trowa in a way that none of his previous lovers had seemed to master. Quatre was a force to be reckoned with, and Trowa was grateful he’d stumbled upon him.

“Please… Fucking hell please,” Trowa babbled, unable to look away from the spectacle that was the blonde man before him.

It was only then, when Quatre had managed to reduce this strong man to begging and pleading for release did he ultimately give in. He pushed himself this time, forcing his jaw to relax just a bit more, swallowing down more of Trowa’s length. He felt the tip nudging at the back of his throat, and that was it. Trowa was undone and came with a loud shout, fingers holding Quatre’s hair in a grip that promised at least a few missing strands when they released. He was so lost to his burning desire to come that he didn’t even have the thought to warn Quatre that he was coming. Instead, Quatre just held him there, cock lodged against his throat as it twitched inside his mouth, letting Trowa spill his release inside his mouth. He swallowed each spurt down, enjoying both the taste and feel of it sliding down his throat, like he was savoring a finely aged wine. Slowly, Quatre eased off Trowa’s cock, giving a few hard sucks at just the tip to ensure he’d gotten every drop out of Trowa. Trowa bleated weakly, tugging hard at Quatre’s hair, trying to get the blonde off the sensitive tip of his erection.

Quatre withdrew with a wet pop and sat back on his heels, grinning. Trowa groaned, grateful again for the wall. He’d have been in an ungainly heap on the floor without it. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, still unable to believe the way Quatre managed to look so sweet, even knowing that he’d just given Trowa one of the best blowjobs of his life, and swallowed every drop he’d had to offer. The blonde was dangerous, in the best way. He slowly got his breath back, and Quatre leaned forward to help him tug his jeans back up from where they’d slid down. Trowa appreciated the help and carefully tucked his sensitive cock back inside and zipped himself back up.

“That… Was fucking amazing,” he finally breathed out.

“It was. I enjoyed it,” Quatre practically purred, carefully getting up, taking the hand Trowa offered.

His own legs were sore and stiff from being curled in that kneeling position. Quatre wouldn’t trade it for anything though. He smiled tiredly up at the brunette, finally feeling everything crashing down over him at once. The wild rollercoaster of highs from his practice and the blowjob he’d just given… The lows from being attacked per se, and the shock setting in from it. He found himself covering a yawn with the palm of his hand.

“I should get going. You’re probably tired,” Trowa offered lamely, suddenly at a loss of words.

He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to break the spell they had. And, he didn’t want to leave without a way to see Quatre again. That was his biggest fear, was being unable to see the blonde angel who had seemed to have stolen his heart without even trying. He was so distracted by his thoughts, that he didn’t see Quatre grabbing his bag and digging inside it for something. He waved a laminated badge on a lanyard in Trowa’s face, which snapped the brunette to attention.

“Come to my performance next week. You can see me in action, we can get dinner or something afterwards?” Quatre asked, hope lacing his words, like he wanted Trowa to agree. “It’s a backstage pass, so you’ll have full access to everything.”

Trowa reached out and snagged the dangling pass, snatched it greedily. Any chance to see Quatre again, he would take.

“It’s a date. Let me leave you my phone number too,” he offered.

Quatre dug out his phone and entered in the contact information, a tint of a blush on his cheeks as he typed everything into his phone, in the barely lit entryway of his apartment. When he was done, he sent off a quick text message, just so Trowa would have his number. Trowa leaned over the blonde to grab his coffee cup and gave the blonde a lazy smile, heading for the door.

“Until next time,” Trowa purred out, leaning down to brush a light kiss against Quatre’s cheek. 

Quatre opened the door for him, and Trowa left, Quatre whispering goodbye. Once Trowa was outside, Quatre closed and locked the door, leaning against it with his back, as giddy as a school girl who’d just confessed to her crush and found out it was reciprocated. It was unconventional, but he’d fallen hard, and he couldn’t wait til next week. Maybe he’d be able to get Trowa to suck him off while the blonde wore his performance tuxedo. His cock gave a twitch at the idea, and he palmed himself roughly, moaning aloud at the thought and the action, heading for bed to indulge in the fantasy he was already building in his head of Trowa on his knees, all that muscle putty under his hands, a slave to Quatre’s desires this time around.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://moonsandrock.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [My Gundam Tumblr](http://weiclown.tumblr.com/)


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